poetry

My Noori

They tell Noori
It’s been so long, she needs to let go
But Noori is still a child
Her hair, wild
Noori is a round face bacchii (child)
Who runs around the house the entire day
Pretending to be an elephant
She’d bless you if you hand her a paisa
With all those fat round cheeks
She was a baby elephant
But then a monster came by
Told her he was going to teach her a new game

Now my dear Noori never had anyone to play with
The poor child took the deal
He took her to the woods behind her home
The monster made a deal, told her
“Shhhhh this is a secret, don’t tell another”
The monster touched my baby girl
Every time, his hands ran over her
The child in her died
Inch by inch through her skin
Monster kept treading within

Her sweet stories were turned filthy

The words he made her say
One afternoon Noori returned from the woods

Noori was not an elephant anymore
With the monster hair stuck in her baby skin, an ugly porcupine
She pulled it one after another and

Her smile vanished
Her body hurt,
Most intimate and delicate part of her
Hurt, pricked, inflamed
They had to sing her to sleep at night
“It hurts”, she screamed through
The darkness
No one ever imagined Noori could be hurt
Doctors called in
Priests prayed
Elders cursed
No-one knew Noori was dying
On the inside

Fortunately, five years later, the monster moved
Farther away into other woods
And Noori could finally be a child again
No more hiding, no more whistle calls,
Noori started growing year after year
But lived in perpetual fear
How she’d be outcast if people were to find out
My poor Noori didn’t know she wasn’t to blame

Noori is now grown up
Last we heard of her she’s now a bad ass
But her skin is as if it’s suffered third-degree burns
She doesn’t let anyone touch her
Every touch still kills her
Unless she really chooses
Some nights she lives in fear
But as the sun rises, Noori goes on to conquer
Everything in her way

Noori has buried it all deep within her
They tell Noori
It’s been so long, she needs to let go
But somewhere deep down
My Noori is still a child

poetry

Rich man’s daughter

A rich man’s daughter
Stole her man
She took away her laughter
In just one second

The rich man’s daughter
As pretty as daylight
Stars twinkling in her eyes
Her skin so bright and her hair so nice

The rich man’s daughter
Came like a thief on a new moon night
And swept her love away
Worlds crashed beneath her feet
When rich man’s daughter defeated her

She was, but a warrior
Wielded her sword, made most of her day
While in the night, with ink
She made her way,
A rebel, but a mighty heart, they all say

But, sons of nobility don’t wed warriors,
Do they?
All they seek is a taste of their thirst for freedom
Of all things that they should have been,
But aren’t

So, when the warrior lost her heart,
She gave up on her sword and her ink
The blind soothsayer always warned
The warrior to not cheat on her art
But, the rebel she was, she also lost her mind
With her heart

The sons of nobility don’t wed warriors,
Do they?
All they seek is a taste of their thirst for freedom
Of all things that they should have been,
But aren’t

And one fine day, the man ran away,
Back to his father
Leaving the warrior half dead
In ruins,
Fed her a poison of lies
Without a tinge of remorse
With all the false pride
Hence, came the name snob
And stuck forever

All he sought from the warrior
Was the thrill of an adventure
Before snob, like every other only wed
A rich man’s daughter

poetry

Little boy

Let me tell you a story

Of this little boy across the river
Who’d spend every day
Catching little frogs,
They were the only friends he knew
Told them his tales
While the frogs crashed beside him
Beneath a rock and listened
When the sun went home
So did he,
Lived with his grandfather
Oh this little boy
Dreamed of being a storyteller
That’s all he knew and all he wanted to be
Stories of how earth loved the moon
While sun loved the earth
What an amaze, this little boy
Who knew secrets of the universe
At a tender age of eight
Setting his world so straight
Until one day,
And one day came new resident
This little chica,
A girl around the age of ten,  as beautiful as a sunny day
She was as beautiful as a sunny day
Stars in her eyes twinkled
As she spoke
About the wonders of the world
Every day on the island, she spent with her little friends
she spent with her little friends
As the boy watched from a distance
There was a storyteller better than he was
Even if not a word could he decipher
One morning the girl wandered out alone
Almost lost she found the boy
Startled him as he was looking for her
Smiles made their way across two new friends
While they spoke in tongues
Their stories were always in a flow
Held each other hands until the sun sunk deep
And she said goodbye,
He said “See you tomorrow”
She left and never returned
And my poor little boy could never tell a story again